


Blame on Me

by Kestrealbird



Series: Dysfunctional Family [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Temporary Character Death, Panic Attack, Steve is a good friend, Survivor Guilt, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, and a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: His lungs burned in his chest, his heart beating wildly as blood rushed through his ears, head getting so dizzy he almost wanted to vomit and keel over onto the floor. The focus he had on his surroundings faded, blurring at the edges until it was nothing more than white-noise.





	Blame on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Alright yall this series of mine has officially consumed me and I'm a Tony Stark stan through and through so jot that down. The title of this fic comes from the song Human by Rag'n'Bone Man because you cant tell me that song isn't Tony Stark.

The wall behind his back is cold and rough against his exposed skin, his suit laying in a tattered, sparking heap in front of him. His clothing is torn, skin bruised and bloody and numb as he looks out, unseeing, at all the wreckage around him.

Everything’s a mess. Bringing back those that Thanos personally killed is one thing, but there’s nothing they can do to bring back the lives that were lost as a result of vehicles suddenly going off the rails, machines malfunctioning, ships capsizing and submarines sinking to the depths. For some people it would’ve been better if they’d stayed turned to dust; at least that death was painless, or so he’d heard.

The ones who were brought back only to find themselves crushed under rubble, lost deep in the ocean or waking up in a fiery hell, people screaming and crying all around them were quick to lose their lives once more, in a far more violent manner. Naturally, it’s lead to chaos - riots and protests and Gods some of them have managed to get into his things and take his weapons and why was it always the things he’d created to protect that ended up causing the most damage?

Everyone’s been stretched thin, trying their damned hardest to get some modicum of control back into the world. His arms are bleeding where he’s started to scratch them again. He does that when his anxiety takes an iron hold over his heart. Pepper was going to have a fit when she saw this. She was worried about him, no doubt, given that he’d left without a word.

His head feels fuzzy, eyes unfocused as his breath starts to hitch painfully in his chest. He’d failed. It didn't matter that they’d been brought back, it mattered that he’d _failed_ and they’d died because he couldn’t be _better_.

_It was the only way_

_Oh, man_

_I don't feel so good_

_I don't want to go_

_I’m scared_

Peter’s words repeat the most in his head, over and over like a sick mantra sent to torture him. What if that had been it? What if they hadn't managed to bring those people back and he’d been left to track down Peter’s Aunt May - assuming she was still alive - and tell her that he’d failed and her nephew - son perhaps, these days - had died in his arms and there was nobody to bring back to her because he _didn't exist anymore_.

He hadn’t wanted to attack these people. They were still scared, only trying to survive, but he’d had to do something and chasing them away with blasters had been his only option but what if, what if, what if?

They’d fought back, of course, attacking him with his own tech and wasn’t that just a lovely trip down memory lane? He’d chased them off, yes, but his suit was…

Well. At least he always kept a spare or five.

Tony lets a sob escape his mouth, curling into a ball as his hands tear at his hair, teeth biting harshly into his bottom lip, eyes watering as his body trembles and his mind tears him apart again and again and again, reminding him that he’s a failure who needs to be better at what he does.

He couldn’t do this on his own, why had he thought otherwise? Everyone had been telling him to rest - _Pepper_ had demanded that he rest and what had he done instead? Snuck out of Wakanda and turned off his communication devices to try and find a solution. And now here he was; curled up in the middle of a panic attack in some dingy street in Denmark, bloody and bruised with no-one to help him.

Memories resurfaced, unbidden, of the torture he’d endured in Afghanistan. Memories of being locked up, of people dying because of him, of people using his tech to slaughter hundreds, of the hunger and thirst and he couldn't breathe he needed to breathe but the breaths weren’t coming and he couldn’t talk, couldn’t make a sound outside of heaving sobs and desperate gasps of air.

His lungs burned in his chest, his heart beating wildly as blood rushed through his ears, head getting so dizzy he almost wanted to vomit and keel over onto the floor. The focus he had on his surroundings faded, blurring at the edges until it was nothing more than white-noise. He was alone. There was no-one here for him to-

Hands gently grasped his arms, prying them free from his face and then familiar eyes were staring at him, and Steve was suddenly right there, kneeling down in the dirt, mouth moving and - oh. He was being asked to focus. He could do that. He could focus on someone who was there.

“-with me Tony?” Steve’s voice, firm and patient parted his dizzying thoughts like the red sea. He nodded, shakily, nothing more than a short jerk but it was enough, going by the relief he could see on Steve’s face. “Okay.” Steve moved his hand so that it was cradling his face and brought their foreheads together with a soft thud. “Breathe with me, buddy, that’s it. Slowly, slowly,” he soothed. “In and out, okay?  There we go, you got it.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, sitting in the grimy street, breathing in tandem before Tony slumped back against the wall, panic subsiding and being replaced with silent tears. “I can’t do it,” he whispered, voice quiet and vulnerable. “I failed the kid, Steve. I couldn’t save him. Can’t save anyone they’re using my tech again it’s all my fault-”

“Look at me.” He did. “This-” Steve gestured around them grandly, eyes hard and searching - “isn’t your fault. This is Thanos’ fault. Peter wasn't your fault either, and if you think you have a right to blame yourself for that then I’m allowed to blame myself for not stopping that purple bastard from snapping his fingers or getting the mind stone. Understand?”

He exhales, shakily, and nods again. He’s too tired to argue. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

They’ll have a longer talk later, he can tell by Steve’s face, but right now? Right now he just wants to rest. Steve sits beside him, keeping an arm around his shoulders and it reminds him so much of how they used to be that he leans into Steve’s shoulder and ignores the aches it causes in his back.

He keeps his focus on Steve, on the comfort his presence causes. Their interactions have been awkward, testy, so it’s a surprise to know that Steve is here, despite everything they’ve done. But then, wasn't it also surprising that he’d kept such an old phone simply because it had Steve’s number in it?

Silence passed between them for a time, Steve’s presence acting as a rock to keep him grounded and secure. “You know,” he said, conversationally, “your shield is really stupid.”

Steve laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re literally a magical girl from one of Peter’s shows, Tony.”

“Which Peter?”

“You don't deny that you’re a magical girl?”

Tony grinned. “I take pride in it.”

Steve hummed dubiously and in good humour. “That explains the flair, then.”

“Part of my charm,” he agreed. “...does Bucky watch it?”

“Hm?”

He waved an arm to elaborate what he meant. “Magical girl shit.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t deny the claim. Tony whispered an almost victorious, “I fucking knew it,” under his breath and Steve nudged him with his leg. “You act as if the two Peter’s don't binge Sailor Moon every other week.”

He shrugged, wincing at the pull in his muscles. “It’s what they do. They’re nerds.”

“And Bucky isn’t?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he responded, dryly.

“He is,” Steve told him, seriously. “Especially for Sci-Fi.”

Tony stayed silent, eyes beginning to droop. There was a joke set up for him there, he knew it, but he was so tired and drained. Steve wouldn't mind if he fell asleep right?

“Don't make me carry you back,” Steve muttered.

“Why?” He mumbled, barely coherent. “Getting weak in your age?”

“I will throw over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes so help me, God.”

He snickered, and said something about Steve going back to his Irish roots but it was hard to remember when his...friend was so warm and comfortable and keeping his burning thoughts away from his mind.

He dozed off for just a moment and when he blearily came to consciousness again Steve had him hoisted onto his back, his limbs curled around Steve’s torso like a clingy koala, and he really only had one last thing he needed to say. “I’m sorry. We’re still friends right?”

Steve’s voice, when he answered, was soft, and, maybe, a little choked up with emotion. “Yeah Tony. We are. Nothing a little drink can't fix, eh?”

“Mmm. ‘s on Rhodey this time.”

The feeling of Steve laughing so genuinely around him for the first time in so long was a bigger comfort than he’d really admit when he was properly awake again. For now, though, he settled for drifting back off on Steve’s back and letting himself get carried back home.

Maybe, if he was lucky, Pepper wouldn’t slap him quite so hard for going off the grid this time.

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation about Tony being a magical girl is something my brother Dan came up with so here's to him for that gem!


End file.
